Harry Potter and the Fake ID
by Organco21
Summary: AU! Harry is bored of his usual summer misery, and, hearing of a party, decides to check it out. It was as if he was made for this.
1. Chapter 1

**Slash warning! Alcohol and drug use! Blackmail! Underage sex!**

The make-shift club shook with the heavy bass. The sounds of music, laughter, and cheers to the DJ were nearly deafening.

The pulsing crowd, erotic beat, and sensual dancers gave the warehouse the atmosphere of gritty, raunchy, dangerous sex.

It was this, more than anything, which set Harry Potter's blood on fire. He walked into the club, tight shirt and tighter jeans hugging his frame in a way that showed the curves and angles of his body, while barely showing any skin.

Despite his excitement, he was also horribly nervous. He'd never been to anything even remotely like this, and had to sneak out of his Aunt and Uncle's house to do so. If he were caught, especially with all the Order members supposed to be watching over him, he'd get locked back up in that house so fast his head would spin.

He could feel the heavy bassline rumble in his body, almost overpowering the nervous, excited thumping of his heart. He'd come by muggle bus to the most deserted area of London's industrial district, surprisingly close to the Grunnings Drill Factory. He'd heard about this party from Dudley, while he was discussing it with Peirs Polkiss in front of the telly. Dudley had, at the last minute, caught the flu -for real this time- and left Harry free to go in his place. Not that he knew Harry was here. No one did.

Perhaps that was a dangerous thing to do, not telling a soul that he's going alone to a place he's never been before, where he doesn't know the scene or the people. But that added to the excitement. And besides, what could a bunch of muggles do to a nearly fully-grown wizard?

He avoided a couple too interested in themselves to take notice of where they were going, and made his way to the poorly constructed bar. He needed something to calm his nerves.

Sitting down, the man behind the bar gave Harry one look and smirked. He could smell virgin.

The look made Harry even more nervous, and the less Gryffindor side of him told him to leave. But he wouldn't listen. He didn't come out here just to get anxious and leave. He came out here to experience life.

"Can I get you something, babe?" The bartender asked, that smirk still on his face.

"Uhm…." He floundered, before he cleared his throat and tried again. "What do you have?" He didn't see a menu or board anywhere showing the options. At the man's look, he felt like he was just supposed to know.

"I'll just get you something." He said, and set to work making a drink. Harry looked around at the dancefloor and the top level, probably where the VIP's were. Everyone looked so free, unguarded, wild. It was such a drastic change from when Harry was in the wizarding world. These people, unlike the antiquated inhabitants of the magical community, knew how to let go.

The bartender cleared his throat, bringing Harry's attention back to him. He was holding a green drink in a martini glass out to Harry.

Harry took it and looked it over.

The bartender smirked again. "It's called a Green Vesper. I thought it matched your eyes." He spoke evenly.

Harry looked up at him and felt his cheeks go a little pink. It did indeed match his eyes.

He wanted to take in the man before him. The bartender was tall, maybe as tall as 6' 10". His eyes were a mischievous blueish-green. And his hair was dark, almost as dark as Harry's own. He had a small amount of stubble on his square jaw, and the arms that were crossed over his thick chest were well muscled.

He leaned forward, hands on the bar. "Go on, take a sip."

Harry blushed a little more, and looked back down to the drink. Hermione was in his head already, telling him that he should be more careful about accepting drinks from strangers. And he wasn't even old enough to drink.

Feeling like a rebel, he gave a smirk of his own and took a large gulp of the drink. The man laughed, a deep sound, but not unfriendly. Harry soon figured out why. The alcohol burned his throat on the way down and made his eyes water. He coughed a little, and the smirk on the other man's face only widened.

"Like it?" He asked. Harry didn't even try to speak, and nodded weakly instead. It tasted good, that was true, but it was maybe too strong for him. He'd only really drunk Butterbeer before, and that hardly counted.

"Good. When you're finished with that, I'll get you another. And don't worry, they're free."

Harry was too busy choking after another sip to protest.

By around three in the morning, the party nowhere near over, and Harry Potter, the wizarding world's savior, Dumbledore's Golden Boy, could hardly be found. He was deep in the dancefloor, grinding against men and women alike, extremely drunk and having the time of his life.

He was groped, kissed, felt up, and dry-humped, and he loved every minute of it. He also had the notion that he was a pretty good dancer, despite being totally unfamiliar with the muggle club music. Or any club music for that matter. He just swung his hips, thrust out his chest, and moved his feet. It was surprisingly easy. Much easier than dancing at the Yule Ball in his fourth year.

But that all may have been the large amounts of alcohol in his system talking. Whatever, he didn't care. All he knew was that he felt free for the first time in… well… forever.

But Harry soon felt his body tire. He'd been dancing for a few hours straight, so he slipped his way back to the bar, sitting in the spot he'd grabbed before and smiled drunkenly at the bartender, whose name he had learned was Adam.

"Hey, Harry." He smirked again. It was his most common facial expression, Harry assumed. It just looked right on him. And it was also highly disarming. So Harry, drunkenly feeling safe, had told him his real name instead of using an alias.

Oh well. He was a muggle after all; it was not like he would know who Harry Potter was. In Adam's eyes, Harry was just a kid who snuck out of his house to come to a party. And that was exactly what he'd wanted to be.

Harry was a loose-mouthed drunk, it seemed, because he'd also let slip that he wasn't exactly of age. Adam hadn't seemed to be bothered by the fact that he'd given copious amounts of alcohol to a minor, and had laughed about Harry's state.

"Hey." He said, giving a fearless smile. Adam leaned in again, and even his eyes were smirking now.

"There's another party in a few days. Three days, actually. Be there?" He asked. Harry felt his heart pound loudly in his chest and ears. He nodded. Adam's smirked widened and he wrote down the address for Harry, and also what he should wear. Apparently it was a theme type party.

Harry stayed until the party ended, leaving with a large group of people he had met on the dance floor. He got lots of invitations to go back to people's flats with them, but even in Harry's drunk mind, he knew he had to be back by the time the sun rose, or the Order would assume the worst.

So, it was reluctantly that Harry got back on public transit, making his way home before crawling into bed without waking or alerting a soul, and passing out, exhausted. His last coherent thoughts were of his skill, having avoided notice by all Order members during the excursion.

Or so he thought.

Black eye's glittered knowingly as they watched form a hidden location, and Severus Snape furrowed his brows. Idiot boy.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Harry opened his bloodshot eyes to the terrible sound of his Aunt screeching at him through the door.

"Get UP! You lazy boy! Get up this instant!" She stomped away, but only after banging on the door several more times.

It made Harry want to throw up.

His head hurt so badly, and everything was too bright and too loud. He ducked his head under his covers to block out the light from his window, but nothing would take away his headache.

Miserably, he got up, and very nearly fell over. The world started to spin, and he felt his stomach lurch into his throat. As fast as he could, he made his way to the bathroom just in time to puke up everything he'd had for the past day. Which admittedly, wasn't a lot. Mostly booze.

Once he stopped retching, he rested his head against the cool porcelain. Well… this sucked. He had somehow hoped, in the back of his mind, that his magic would prevent him from getting a hangover. But apparently this was not the case.

Standing on unsteady feet, Harry made his way down to the kitchen to see his Aunt glaring disapprovingly at him from the stove.

Oh. That was why she was so mad. She disliked having to cook, used to years of Harry doing it for her.

He tried to give a look of apology, but that only made it worse. She huffed and turned away.

At least he didn't have to cook today though. He probably would've burned everything. But this also meant she wouldn't make him any food, and so he'd have to take something later when she was no longer in the kitchen.

Harry returned to his room, hoping to block out all sound and light under his sheets.

When the date of the next party arrived, Harry realized he had yet to actually look at the address or required clothing. He searched for the scrap of paper and found it in his jeans from that first night.

He looked over the paper, and blinked at the written list of proper clothing.

Leather. Black. Studs and spikes. Straps. Boots. Collars. Cuffs.

He blinked again. What kind of theme was this? He didn't even own anything like that. Not even close.

But… he did want to go… the other night had been so much fun. And the alternative was staying here… at his Aunt's and Uncle's…

It was decided then. He'd go.

That night, at around eleven, Harry Potter stepped off the tube and walked out of the station, looking around.

He was dressed like he'd been told. He wore tight black leather shorts, a see-through mesh top, also black. A worn pair of black Converse, and had even indulged in his darker side a little and bought a tight collar, complete with D-ring.

He'd had no idea what to buy, so basically everything was picked out for him by the shopping assistant in some goth store he'd forgotten the name of. He also hadn't had time to learn anything about the club while he was shopping, just that he'd be turned away if he wasn't dressed in the proper clothes.

Harry would hardly call this proper, though.

He blushed hard as he made his way to the address he'd memorized. A large sign came into view, and Harry knew that this was the place.

The Hook.

He looked at it from across the road, before gathering his courage and walking up to the pounding building, the air already seeming more dangerous, more exciting.

It was obvious to Harry that this was a BDSM club. He'd never really had an interest in such things, but hey, what was a little experimentation? A silver little whisper in his mind told him he might even learn to like it.

Shaking off that thought, he knocked on the door, hoping someone could hear it over the loud music coming from inside.

It took a moment, but a little hatch slid open and brown eyes peeked down at him. "Password?" the man asked.

Harry stared. Then stuttered. He'd had no idea that there would be a password. Now what was he going to do? He doubted the password was 'Cockroach Clusters', and worried about not being able to get in.

The man behind the door was getting impatient, so Harry tried to say anything. "Uhm… I-I don't know. But I was invited, by someone named Adam, who I met at-"

At the mention of Adam's name, the hatch slid shut. Harry blinked, and despaired. Had he said the wrong thing? Was Adam not liked here? Or were people not supposed to mention real names?

But just then, the door opened and revealed a hairy, buff man in a leather outfit. The music was practically deafening now, and Harry gave a shaky smile to the man in leather, and walked inside.

Shutting the door behind him, the man pointed to the bar at the opposite end of the club. Understanding what he meant, he began to work his way through the crowd.

He was halfway through when someone grabbed at his ass, making him jump and turn around. There was no obvious culprit, as a lot of people were grabbing each other's rears, so he finished making his way to the bar and plopped down on the first seat available.

Adam immediately came over, leaning on the bar with a smirk. Just like the last time Harry had seen him. Except he was dressed in leather like everyone else.

Adam saw the slight blush on Harry's face and chuckled. "Thrilling, isn't it, doing something naughty?" The way he said it only made Harry's blush worse.

"I… I've never really worn clothes like this before." He admitted, and Adam nodded.

"Well, you look smashing in them." He leaned in. "And I bet you're nervous again. Here." He handed Harry something different from the other night.

"What's this one?" He asked, and Adam chuckled again.

"It's called a Flirtini." He said as Harry took a sip. It was strong, but very sweet. He liked it more than the Green Vesper. He told Adam so, and he laughed.

After a lot more drinks, and some more conversation with Adam, Harry made his way to the dancefloor. The music this time was deep, had a sinister feel to it, and pounded in his bones.

He began to let his body find the rhythm, and just started dancing. Someone apparently liked the way he moved, because they started groping Harry from behind while grinding against him.

Adam was right, it _was_ thrilling to be naughty.

Early in the morning, Harry snuck back into the house undetected by his relatives once again, and assumingly by the Order member stationed outside his house.

He quickly and quietly changed and hid the club clothes, sliding into his bed sweaty and pleased. He'd gotten another invitation to the same club, and he fully intended to go back.


	3. Chapter 3

Severus Snape was not happy. No, not in the least. He watched as night after night, Potter snuck out of his house, sometimes wearing the most questionable things, and he wouldn't return until the sun started peeking over the horizon. He would place a tracking charm on the boy from a distance, as he had been instructed to do should Harry leave the premises, and wait.

All of the Order members had been told not to interfere should Harry decide to leave, and inform Dumbledore instead, unless the wards went off. And they only would if he was under the Imperious, or was in the hidden presence of a Death Eater upon his return.

But Snape had had enough of the boy's blatant disregard for safety and rules. It was pure stupidity. He decided to follow the boy one night, to see what it was he got up to so often.

Harry was back at The Hook once again. He'd been four times since his first initial appearance, and he was quite popular.

Dressed in an even more revealing outfit than the first time, he stood on one of the platforms in the middle of the dance floor, and swayed sensually to the music. No one seemed to care that he was obviously underage, and that suited Harry just fine.

Not that he was ready to have sex with anyone there, as he didn't really know them and that felt like a little too much. But he liked the attention anyway. It was different than the usual forms of attention directed at The-Boy-Who-Lived. It wasn't murderous, annoying, or embarrassing. It made him feel…. normal.

As he slid his hand down his thigh, ass pert and his body bent perfectly at the waist, someone shouted from the crowd.

"Strip!"

It sent off a chain reaction, and soon all the people watching were chanting for Harry to remove his clothes. Thrilled at the idea, and with more than a few drinks humming in his brain, he complied.

Slowly, he started with the thin shirt that only went to mid chest. He felt along it and then pulled it off, throwing it to the crowd. They cheered for more.

Heart pounding in his chest, he pulled off his boots, leaving them on the platform, and hooked his thumbs under the hem of the tight leather shorts which showed off half his ass cheeks already.

He slid the shorts down to his ankles, showing his tight, round ass and his juvenile cock. Harry was blushing brightly by now, even the drinks didn't stop that.

But the cheers from the crowd and the warm air on his naked flesh made him feel…. Thrilled. He resumed dancing, without bothering to put his clothes back on, or wonder where they went.

At the end of the night, he had to borrow something from Adam so he wouldn't have to go home naked.

"Nice show, Harry." Adam had whispered in his hear, an errant hand rubbing down his back and making Harry shiver, before he was good-naturedly pushed out the door.

Severus Snape was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, flabbergasted. He didn't think that had ever happened before. But it was true. And so was the fact that Harry Potter, the supposed Savior of the Wizarding World, was stripping in a muggle fetish club. At sixteen.

And he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.

Before Severus saw anything that would stain his mind, or bring his ethics into question, he left. Apparating back outside the bloodwards to Number four, Privet Drive, he stayed hidden in the shadows as he thought.

He needed to do something about this. It could not be allowed to continue. If wind of this ever reached the Dark Lord, or any of his followers, there would be a bloodbath. Muggles and wizards alike would die, and it would all be because of one selfish little boy.

Snape was about to apparate outside the Hogwarts wards, and tell Dumbledore of his discovery, when a thought occurred to him.

Dumbledore already knew of the almost nightly escapes, and had done nothing to stop them. He would either do nothing with this development as well, or would do something to make Potter's rebellion worse. But Potter couldn't be allowed to continue his excursions to such places. It was dangerous, reckless, stupid, and completely adolescent. And what was he thinking, drinking at his age? He already had too few brain cells for that sort of behavior.

No, Snape wouldn't tell the Headmaster about this. Instead, he would deal with it himself.

When Harry finally arrived home, he was almost relieved. The sun was already rising, and he was freezing in the borrowed clothes. Sneaking back into his room like usual, climbing up the tree right outside his window and slipping inside, he was careful not to bump the side of the house. Standing in the center of the pitiful bedroom, he was just about to slide the borrowed clothes off his frame before someone cleared their throat behind him.

He whirled around, nearly losing his precarious balance, eyes wide and heart jumping. His eyes only widened further as he saw who it was. Professor Snape was standing by the closet, looking both menacing and smug at the same time.

"Wh-what?" Harry slurred out, blinking rapidly and hoping that this was just a hallucination from too much absinthe. If Professor Snape was really here…

"Mr. Potter, clueless as always I see." He said snidely, and Harry knew then that it was all too real.

"What're you doin' in my room?" He asked, in what he hoped was a normal tone.

Snape rose a brow at the obvious slur in his words, and took a step closer. "Potter, do not try and play dumb with me. Although with you, it might not be playing." He added under his breath.

He had expected Harry to get mad, maybe try and yell at him. What he had not expected was laughter. Harry was giggling furiously, a hand over his mouth.

"Just what is so funny?" Snape snarled. But Harry refused to stop laughing, and Snape wanted to strangle him, if only to keep him quiet.

"Potter!" He hissed as quietly as he could, and at the sound of his name, Harry's laughter died down. He looked at Snape with blurry, bloodshot eyes.

"What?" he asked, being a bit too loud. Snape sighed, knowing that if he continued at the volume, he would wake up the neighborhood. Quickly, he cast a muffling charm around the room, so his relatives would not find Harry like this. Or find Snape in Harry's room.

"Potter, what do you think you are doing?" He demanded, speaking at normal volume now. He crossed his arms menacingly over his chest as he watched Potter think.

"Having fun." Was his arrogant response. Snape's eyes narrowed.

"By having fun, you mean going to bars and stripping in front of crowds?" He mocked, but there was venom in his voice. Harry blinked, paling a bit before he blushed hard and looked away.

"I…" But there was no defense, no way he could get out of it because Snape had seen. Wait… "You followed me!" He blurt out, looking at Snape with anger in his unfocused eyes.

Snape scoffed. "Don't be so shocked Potter, it's my _job_ to follow you, making sure you don't get carried away by that ridiculous Gryffindor bravado." He spat.

"Well… knock it off!" Harry slurred loudly.

Snap growled. "Oh, how I wish that were possible."

Harry blinked. "What does that mean?" he asked, confused. Why would Snape do something he didn't want to? He hardly seemed the type to be pushed around.

Snape sighed in response. "It means, Potter, that I have more important things to do with my time than be witness to your stupidity." He said, misinterpreting the question.

"And my stripping." Harry muttered. Snape brought a hand up to his temples as if he was getting a headache.

"What in Merlins name possessed you to do such a thing?" He asked exasperatedly.

Harry's immediate response was, "The crowd wanted me to."

"So you'll do anything a group of perverse strangers instructs?"

"I…" he had no real response to that. Maybe he would do anything for that crowd? He would certainly strip and dance for them. Snape just glared.

"You're going to explain things to me, Potter." He said, and Harry shook his head defiantly. "Potter." Snape growled in warning, but Harry didn't budge. Heaving a sigh, Snape looked right into Potter's eyes. "Would you rather I tell the Headmaster?" That got him.

Harry shook his head, eyes widening. "W-wait, don't do that!" He nearly pleaded. Snape was much too aggravated to gain pleasure form hearing Potter beg him for something. Potter, hearing Snape's silence like a death sentence, began to whine. "Look, I'll tell you whatever you want, okay?"

Snape snorted. "Very well, Potter. You can start by telling me how you even heard of that place." He looked at him expectantly, and Harry looked at his feet.

"I… well, I heard Dudley talking about a party. But he didn't end up going. So I went. And… I met this guy, and he invited me to another party, but at a different place." Harry muttered, shuffling his feet. He didn't know what Snape was going to do with this information, but it was preferable to having Dumbledore know.

Black eyes looked at him critically. "You accepted an invitation from a literal stranger? Potter, your recklessness and stupidity know no bounds." Snape said bitingly.

Harry just looked up and glared at him. "Hey, I was drunk!" He said, as if that was an acceptable excuse.

"Which leads me to my second question." Snape sneered. "What on earth made it sound like a good idea to get drunk in a room full of strangers, when the darkest wizard in history is out for your blood?"

Something flashed in those green eyes, and Snape was slightly taken aback by the emotion that came across in the boy's voice.

"I don't just want to go through life, wondering when I'm going to die. I want to experience things, make decisions for myself for once." Harry spoke quietly, but his words came across clearly in the silence of the dark room. Snape tried to sneer at him, but he was too shocked. He always thought Potter was content in being dragged along like a pawn in a game. Apparently not, and his vindication for his actions proved that.

"So, what then? Instead of waiting for danger to find you, you're going to go out and find the danger? How Gryffindor of you." Snape hissed, and shook his head. "You're lucky the Headmaster won't learn about this, not from me anyway. I'd make him chain you to the wall."

It was an innocent enough comment, made in irritation, but at Harry's blush he knew how the boy had taken it.

"Chain me…?" He whispered, looking up at Snape in a way that made him far too uncomfortable. So he snarled at the boy, ordered him to sleep off his inebriation, and removed the muffling charm as he left.

The asinine boy had no right to look at him like that, and he didn't want to wait for Potter to embarrass himself further. He refused to admit that the look had caused a twitch in his shorts.

But something had to be done, and Snape would have to do it himself.


End file.
